The Heart of a Snow Fence

The pretense of her heart's wants could only beckon of those from faraway and lonely streets Longing for these, and yet, her conscience begins to weep Not unlike the sad song, long endured of a summer's snow fence A sounding, laden with its own aired season mired in consequence When it's an empty autumn wind that rushes through and past its weathered pickets There starts a howling for this same cold, cold company soon to keep The icy hold of a winter's snow, each yet to reap Sent from my iPad